


the whisper of the sands

by apostrophe (introductions)



Series: the cosmos and the soul [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fictional Religion & Theology, M/M, Pining, Some Plot, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28365837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/introductions/pseuds/apostrophe
Summary: In the midst of figuring out life as a Solari, Donghyuck turns twenty and tries to keep his love a secret.And if the gods are speaking, Donghyuck can't hear them.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: the cosmos and the soul [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075802
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69
Collections: Markhyuck Week 2021





	the whisper of the sands

**Author's Note:**

> part 2!!! this is mostly worldbuilding and setting up the religion and stuff (because the gods will be very, very important later!!) 
> 
> also idk if there are enough mh week days for me to finish this whole thing and if that is the case then i will just write the rest of the fic and post it as one big longfic after this is done. but we shall see. we......shall...........see. 
> 
> thank you for all the love on the first one, and i hope you enjoy this one!

Nine months after Donghyuck takes his vows—nine months after he left Mark—he turns twenty. 

Ten is a good number. Ten gods watching over the kingdom, ten turrets on the palace, ten warrior monks to a vow-set. 

But twenty—twenty is even better. Twenty is the holy number, the number of duty and sacrifice. Twenty tears the sun goddess shed when the earth mother tore her beloved moon god from the sky and created night and day. Twenty days is how long it took for Jiwoo, mother of the First Empress and the Sun Abbot, to ascend and become the rain goddess, leaving her people behind in exchange for fertile land and safety from the ancient war. The First Empress was twenty when she named the kingdom and brokered peace between nations. Her brother, the Sun Abbot, was twenty when he first heard the voices of the gods and founded the Solari. 

Twenty is supposed to be the number when the warrior monk finds himself. When his secret path is illuminated, and his true purpose is finally clear. 

But when Donghyuck turns twenty, it’s on the edge of the Simu Desert with the rest of his set, being violently sunburned. They’d gotten sent out here almost a month ago to search for solar gold, which was the divine metal all Solari weapons were made from. And instead of purpose and clarity, all Donghyuck has received today is a close encounter with a scorpion, sand in his shoes, and scorched fingertips. 

“Why’d the sun goddess have to make a _desert_?” Yukhei asks as they toil away, digging through sand and chipping past rock. “Why couldn’t she pick a _different_ way to express heartache? Like, I don’t know, making some mountains? Then we’d be skiing instead of digging through sand.” 

“She’s the sun goddess, genius,” Jisung says irritably. He’s the youngest, and part of the newest group of vow-ins, like Donghyuck. They both have a lot to prove out here, but unlike Donghyuck, Jisung’s mind isn’t three hundred miles away, lingering on a pretty boy in a pretty house. 

“Let’s not fight,” Johnny says. He’s not a pacifist, but he _is_ the oldest, and therefore, they’re his responsibility. That means bringing home enough solar gold to last them through the summer, and making sure they don’t tear each other to pieces. “Okay? We’ve almost hit the target weight for today, which means we can go back and celebrate Donghyuck’s birthday before the winds hit.” 

“It’s your birthday?” Taeyong asks, straightening up. He’s got a dull stone in one hand, but it glints whenever the sunlight catches it, revealing the solar gold within. “How old are you?” 

Donghyuck sighs miserably, tossing a handful of rock out of the way. “Twenty.” 

Taeyong lets out a small gasp. “Really? Twenty? Has anything—” 

“Nothing has happened,” Donghyuck interrupts, a little sharper than intended. Johnny gives him a reproachful look, and Donghyuck softens his tone apologetically. “It’s been a pretty routine day, I mean. No dreams, no gods, no nothing.” 

The five of them take a minute and look up at the sun, burning bright and unforgiving down on their necks. _Do you have something you want to tell me?_ Donghyuck thinks up at it, where the sun goddess is supposed to be living with the rain goddess Jiwoo. Donghyuck visits her temple often—all ten gods have one, technically, even though the sun goddess’ is the biggest and fanciest—because he feels like she might understand him. Jiwoo had loved her people, her mortality, and her life. But when duty had called, she’d understood the sacrifice, and she’d made it willingly. 

Just like Donghyuck had let Mark go—willingly, with an understanding of _why._ Of what was at stake. 

Donghyuck just wonders about the _after_ part. Does she miss it, being human? Does she think of her children even though she knows she shouldn’t? Does she occasionally dream of straying from her dominion in the clouds, just to feel the grass under her feet again? 

He waits—for something, he’s not sure. An answer, maybe. An explanation. Reassurance. Permission. 

But his thoughts remain his own and the sky remains clear. 

If any gods are speaking, Donghyuck cannot hear them. 

* * *

Heartbreak is bitter, but the sheer physical demands of a warrior monk’s duties offer plenty of distraction. At the temple, there is training with weapons and with fists, praying, endless chores. Out here, in the desert, it’s all that plus mining for solar gold, dealing with the sand and the heat, and watching out for scorpions. 

To say he’s exhausted is an understatement—wrung-out is more accurate. The plain bread and watery soup they have for dinner that night taste heavenly to Donghyuck, and they even have some wine left. A surprise, since Donghyuck was sure Yuta and Johnny had drank it all. Drinking is mostly looked down on, but everyone appreciates the solar gold. So in the desert, some rules are bent, some traditions overlooked. So their laughter is a little louder tonight, their mouths a little loser, their secrets not so tightly-locked. 

The older set members get to talking about their twentieth birthdays, regaling them with tales of visions and voices and headaches that guided them to a temple or a holy spot. Taeyong apparently took a ten-day pilgrimage along the old road so he could get a better grasp of where their people had come from—the war-torn country that was now their western neighbor Seifos. 

When it comes time for Johnny to speak, he merely looks into his cup of wine and smiles. “That’s not a story for right now,” he says, friendly but firm. 

“Aw, come on,” Jisung says. He nudges Shotaro, and the two of them heckle Johnny, chanting his name. 

“He and I are a long story,” Johnny says, and the pronouns jolt through Donghyuck like a bolt of lightning. “One that I’m not going to tell right now.” 

That is the end of that, clearly, but Donghyuck is still stunned. _He and I._ Two of them. Johnny has no brothers, no father—like so many of them, he was orphaned very young and taken in by the Solari. So it must be a friend. Or…something more. Someone Johnny loves. 

Someone like Mark. 

Donghyuck drains the rest of his wine and spends the rest of the time listening quietly, waiting as the increasingly-strong wind sends people into the small, smooth-stoned buildings constructed by Solari years ago for this exact purpose. 

Soon, it’s just him and Johnny. 

“Are you alright?” Johnny asks Donghyuck as they put out the fire and bring their cookware back under the protective hides. “You’ve been awful quiet this evening.” 

“I’m just thinking,” Donghyuck says. “I’m a little homesick.” 

Johnny nods, tying down a loose corner. “We’ll be back at the temple soon, Hyuck. I think after tomorrow, we’ll have more than enough, which means we can—” 

“Not for the temple,” Donghyuck blurts before he can help it. “For a person.” 

The words are whipped away by the wind, and at first, Johnny doesn’t react. Donghyuck is just about to repeat himself—or run away—when Johnny gets to his feet, wiping his palms off on his pants. 

“Let’s talk inside,” Johnny says. Suddenly, he looks as exhausted as Donghyuck feels. “As I said, this is a long story.” 

* * *

His name was Ten, and Johnny loved him. 

It was six years ago—they were young, Ten was beautiful, Johnny was lonely. A single night, he tells Donghyuck, led to nearly nine months of secret-keeping, a relationship so wholly consuming Johnny had considered leaving. Stepping off the path, giving up the gods, the only family he'd ever known. 

By the time Johnny’s done, the wind has picked up and the stars are milky-white pinpricks scattered across the sky. The goddess of stars, Miho, is the youngest, and the little sister of the moon god, Kei. The sun goddess drove them both from the land when she scorched the desert, leaving the cloud god, Bowen, by himself. The two of them still get nervous, shining over the land where they'd been previously banished. Out here, the moon looks more like a white smudge, and the stars tremble anxiously, waiting for retribution. 

Johnny, too, is looking at Donghyuck like he's waiting for a verdict. 

“That sounds so hard,” Donghyuck says. “I don't—I don't know what to say.”

“It's in the past now,” Johnny replies, sadness lining his face. “It's old news. I couldn't—I couldn't make that choice, him over me.”

Donghyuck looks down at his hands. His heart aches so badly he can barely breathe, the truth pushing at his lips. But he trusts Johnny with a secret like this, a story heavy enough to fold him. 

“His name is Mark,” Donghyuck says quietly. “I still love him.”

Johnny sighs and puts a hand on Donghyuck's shoulder. “Mark, huh?” he says after a beat. “Will you tell me about him?” 

The words come unbidden, spilling from him without stopping. Little things, big things, things that hurt him and made him laugh. The beginning of it all, and the end, when Donghyuck has climbed down the trellis, taken his vows, and supposedly shed all that he was for all that he will be. 

“I know the Solari aren’t…fond of attachment,” Donghyuck says. 

“That's putting it lightly,” Johnny says, laughing good-naturedly. “The Abbot doesn’t even like when setmates call each other by their first names.” 

Donghyuck sinks down to sit on the low cot by the wall. Technically, Yuta is supposed to share with him, and Donghyuck is with Jisung, but they’d somehow sensed that Donghyuck and Johnny needed to talk. 

“He sounds great,” Johnny offers, sitting next to Donghyuck. “You must really love him.” 

“I do,” Donghyuck says, and aches with the truth of it. 

“The Duchess’ son,” Johnny muses. “A Solari and a duke.” 

Their titles, paired together, makes Donghyuck laugh. It’s so absurd—them, sitting in the middle of a _literally_ god-forsaken desert, talking about the one thing they shouldn’t have. 

“Love will always be a secret for us,” Johnny says. “A promise we’ll never be able to keep.” 

There’s another stretch of silence. Donghyuck listens to the wind whistle through the cracks of their little hut. 

“Does it still hurt?” he asks finally. 

Johnny offers him a sad smile. “Yes. Of course it does.” 

* * *

They make it back to the city after two more days of hard work. Donghyuck is sunburnt and sore all over and wants nothing more than to lie down and sleep for the rest of the week. But there is unloading to do and cleaning to help with, and then he’s swept away by the elders to talk about his twentieth birthday. It had passed without any significance, save for the dream he had about Mark. He doesn’t tell them that, of course, and the blessings pass quickly. An uneventful twentieth birthday is not _entirely_ unheard of, but it’s not common either. They release him with a series of slightly disappointed looks and send him to sweep the temple doorsteps. 

The air is sweet and cool, a balm after the relentless scorch the Simu Desert. Donghyuck breathes it in, armed with a broom and dustpan. The forge down the hill to his right is letting off glittery gold smoke as their blacksmiths work to purify the solar gold to make new weapons. The sleeping hall and barracks are full of noise and activity today, voices and weapons clashing. 

It all fades as Donghyuck makes his way through the plaza and up the worn stone steps towards the minor temples. The sun goddess has the biggest one, obviously, sitting proudly on the biggest hill at the front of the Solari monastery.

The rest, though, are much smaller and way less flashy, nine square-ish buildings sitting in a neat semi-circle. From here, Donghyuck can see out to the farmlands, and beyond it, the barest hint of the ocean, a tiny chip of blue on the horizon past the quaking aspens.

He starts with the soul gods. There are five of them—river, sea, forest, mountain and wind—and Donghyuck makes sure to ask permission from each of them before he crosses into their temples. Jun, the god of forests, always has leaves inside of his, though there aren’t any trees around. Donghyuck makes sure to sweep them carefully, trying not to damage any. The temple for the sea god Aza smells like brine, even after Donghyuck lights new incense and airs out the little room. Rani is the goddess of the wind, so hers is clean thanks to the constant breeze that sweeps through the open windows. Donghyuck does some weeding by the front steps before he moves to the river temple, a neat stone building for the goddess Ema. He finishes at Ander’s temple, a sturdy, stout building representative of the mountain god himself. 

The cosmo gods only have four temples—Bowen, Miho, Kei, and Jiwoo—and they got cleaned recently, so Donghyuck doesn’t have to do much except light new incense and clean out the prayer boxes. Their gods are an eclectic mash-up from many different cultures. Old empires lost to time, all their gods but one faded from history. 

Donghyuck stops in the doorway of Jiwoo’s temple. It smells like fresh rain and ozone, and Donghyuck leans against the cool stone, breathing it in. He’s always liked her temple the best, with its little windows and its still, quiet air. The mats in front of the altar are worn with use, and Donghyuck’s tired legs ache as he sits in front of it, closing his eyes and clasping his hands together. He runs through the ceremonial welcome, the plea for continued peace, and then sighs. 

“I’m having a difficult time,” he says aloud. “I’m sure you know about the birthday thing, and that’s part of it, but—there’s this boy.” He pauses. “I’m sure you know about him too. And I know Kei’s the one I should go to for love stuff, but—” 

He falters, his throat closing. “But this is about duty, too. And I just don’t know what to do.” 

There is a long moment, like a gathering breath before a storm. And then something like a sigh brushes across his neck, comforting and cool. 

Donghyuck’s hair stands on end. “Jiwoo?” he asks tentatively, but the feeling is already fading, the ozone weakening. The air returns to normal. 

Donghyuck lets out a breath. “Okay,” he says, getting to his feet. “Thank you.” 

He doesn’t know what he’s thanking her _for,_ but it’s always better to express gratitude to the gods. People who actively disrespect them have a nasty habit of going missing and then turning up dead a few weeks later. 

He’s just as confused as ever, albeit slightly comforted. It’s no birthday vision about destiny, but he’ll take it. 

* * *

A week later, Donghyuck has just finished getting ready for bed when Johnny corners him. His hair is wet like he’d also just come from the baths, and he’s wearing an urgent expression that Donghyuck doesn’t quite recognize. 

“Do you have evening chores?” Johnny asks quietly as Donghyuck spits his toothpaste into a basin and rinses his mouth. 

“No, why?” Donghyuck asks, but Johnny shushes him quickly and hurries him out of the washroom and into an alcove. There’s a tapestry depicting the ascension of Jiwoo, her arms outstretched to the sun goddess. She had called the sun goddess’ name—something that they, as Solari, are forbidden to do—and had been swept up to the sky to spend the rest of eternity raining down on the newly-green land she’d sacrificed herself for. 

“Johnny, what are you _doing_ ,” Donghyuck hisses, only to be shushed again. 

“I have a surprise for you,” Johnny says, looking up and down the corridor for more people. “But you can’t tell a _single_ person about it. And you gotta listen to me.” 

“What is it?” Donghyuck asks. 

“You’ll see,” Johnny says, and then pulls aside the tapestry. Donghyuck is only confused for a half-second, until Johnny puts his palm against the blank wall and pushes. 

The wall rumbles quietly, and then swings back on a hidden hinge, allowing just enough room for them to pass through. Donghyuck feels his mouth drop open, not believing what he’s seeing. 

“Hurry,” Johnny says, giving Donghyuck a little nudge. 

“I can’t fucking believe this,” Donghyuck says, squeezing through. “A secret _passage?_ In a _military base?_ The Solari have _secret passages?_ ” 

Behind him, he can hear the stone grind shut. “Lights,” Johnny says, and Donghyuck fumbles for his solar light, tossing the chain around his neck and squinting as the light flares and dims, the little disk on the end illuminating the hallway. 

“Are you gonna explain?” Donghyuck asks. “How do you know about this?”

“I was already vowed-in when I met Ten,” Johnny says. “And just like you told me, I told an older setmate. He showed this to me.” 

“Who was it?” Donghyuck asks. “Did they move sets?” 

A clipped moment of silence makes Donghyuck regret even asking. He’s familiar with those pauses—steeped in loss, in grief, in sadness. They’ve all lost somebody. They’re _warriors,_ after all, the main military of the kingdom. And they are only one country in a continent of countries, sandwiched between two nations constantly bristling with the threat of war. 

“I’m sorry,” Donghyuck offers, because that’s all he can say. 

Johnny gets it. “It’s alright. He was a good guy, which is what matters. You’re not the first one with a secret love, you know?” 

They take a couple of turns, and then Johnny instructs Donghyuck to push up on the ceiling. It moves after a couple shoves, and they clamber out of the tunnels into an overgrown, unweeded garden. Behind them, the golden-lined windows of the sun goddess’ temples glint in the dying light. 

“I’ve been wondering how some of the older Solari get out,” Donghyuck says. “It was so _easy_ as an avowed, and then suddenly it’s like—” 

_Prison._

He doesn’t say it because he’s not sure if he means it or not, but the word floats to his lips anyway. 

Johnny gives him a slightly amused look. “Careful.” 

“It’s more difficult,” Donghyuck amends, casting a nervous glance towards the setting sun. _I didn’t mean it,_ he adds, in case the sun goddess is listening. “Anyways, where are we?” 

“The old monastery training grounds,” Johnny says. “They built the ones in the monastery thirty years ago, and these just sit unused. The only other exit near the city lets out in the middle of a street. Or so I’ve heard.” 

Donghyuck looks around at the mossy, crumbling walls and the weeds that push through the stones between their feet. The tunnel exit they’d climbed out of is slightly newer than the rest, less cracked.

“Make sure not to put the stone all the way back,” Johnny advises him, “because it’s nearly impossible to pull up.” 

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Donghyuck says as Johnny leads him to a gap in the wall, squeezing through. 

“You’ll see,” Johnny says again, mysterious. “Keep up.” 

They have to duck into alleys or behind walls a few times to avoid city guards, who will instantly recognize their close-cropped hair as Solari and rat them out. Both of them are wearing their plain tunics—Donghyuck is already in his sleepwear, pretty much—but they stand out just enough to attract the occasional stare or two. Donghyuck tucks his solar light under his shirt before that can give him away. 

Johnny takes a right, towards Morningsun Crest, where the Empress’s council lives. Donghyuck’s heart leaps into his throat as he makes out the familiar roofing of Mark’s manor, and he’s hit with an ache that nearly knocks him over. 

Johnny takes a left a few blocks too soon, though, leading him through a service alley. Distantly, Donghyuck can hear music and laughter, drifting over from a high wall. 

“There,” Johnny says, pointing at the source of the noise. “Climb the window, stay low on the balcony. I’ll watch your back. You don’t have much time.” 

Donghyuck opens his mouth to ask a question but Johnny shakes his head. “Just go and see, Donghyuck.” 

So Donghyuck does. He grabs onto the brick windowsill and wedges a soft-soled boot up next to his hand, pulling himself up and over the balcony next to it before he can lose his balance. It gives him a view into the backyard where the party is happening, its well-dressed inhabitants illuminated by tall light posts. 

At first, he wonders why Johnny sent him up here. 

And then he sees Mark. 

He looks stunning, of course—healthy color in his cheeks, his hair a little longer than Donghyuck remembers, falling over his forehead in a way that makes Donghyuck’s hands itch. His navy jacket is unbuttoned over a white shirt, the laces partway undone. He’s laughing with a man Donghyuck doesn’t recognize, looking carefree and casual, a far cry away from the nonstop work and exhaustion that had characterized the last nine months of Donghyuck’s life. He looks beautiful— _of course he does,_ Donghyuck thinks—and so recognizably _Mark,_ down to the look in his eyes and the curl of his smile. 

Donghyuck still loves him with all the ferociousness he had nine months ago, kissing Mark hard on the mouth and pressing him into the mattress, holding his hand between their cloaks when the weather cooled. Whispering his name in the darkness, and shouting it in the daylight, laughing as they hid from watchful eyes. 

How can he take a love like that and put it into the small shell of a secret? How can he take a feeling that makes him feel like he’s swallowed the sun and plunge it into darkness? 

“Donghyuck,” Johnny calls below him, urgent. “It’s time to go.” 

The man Mark is with laughs, and Mark puts his hand on his shoulder. Donghyuck’s gut twists. That is not his boy anymore, and this was never his world. Maybe it’s time to visit Jun, who is not only the god of the forest but the collector of secrets. Maybe it’s time to make Mark a secret, tucked away in the dark recesses of his heart. 

Donghyuck stands and prepares to drop back to the windowsill, to the alley where Johnny is waiting. 

But Mark’s eyes meet his, and Donghyuck freezes with one leg over the railing. 

Something long and silver stretches between them, a single thread. He sees Mark’s mouth purse around the syllables of his name, can see the surprise in his eyes. 

Donghyuck’s heart is in his throat, his pulse thundering in his ears. 

“ _Hyuck_ ,” Johnny says again, and Donghyuck looks away and drops silently down, putting a hand out to steady himself as he lands next to Johnny. The eye contact couldn’t have lasted more than a second, but it felt like an eternity.

They duck into the shadows to avoid a couple of servants taking out the trash, dumping a bucket of kitchen scraps into the wide container by the back door. 

“He’s there twice a week,” Johnny whispers to Donghyuck, waiting until the coast is clear. “According to Ten.” 

The name rings with familiarity. “The one—?” 

Johnny nods. “He works here. Okay, c’mon, back to the old training grounds.” 

Donghyuck looks over his shoulder. He can still hear the music, see the surprise on Mark’s face. 

He misses him. 

But he still turns on his heel and follows Johnny back towards the glinting sun temple. Back towards an unclear destiny, and a duty wrought with silver-lined secrets. Away from Mark, away from the shape of his mouth, and the tender way he must’ve said Donghyuck’s name. 

**Author's Note:**

> [taking notes] they...should.....kiss.....
> 
> which they will if i have anything to do with it!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/idoldimples)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/conclusions)


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